It was an older man with pale skin, and he wore the attire of an Iyrman, though he was no Iyrman. His forehead held a pattern, though it was not of an Iyrman’s design. There was a complicated pattern of a circle and diamonds emanating from it, as well as several rays shooting outward.

He was quite a handsome older man, looking slightly younger than the Chief. His hair was dark, but not quite black, more a dark blue. His eyes were silver and blue, and held a great deal of wisdom, and a great deal of exhaustion.

“I thought I could smell you,” Entalia growled at the stranger.

“I’m glad to see you’re well,” the stranger replied. “I left so quickly last time.”

“If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t haven needed to take so much time off!”

“Luckily, I am in the Iyr, safe and sound,” he replied, scratching his cheek gently.

“Who are you?” Adam asked, staring up at the old man.

The old man’s eyes fell on Adam for a moment, raising his brow towards the Half Elf. He sniffed the air, and tilted his head. “I’m just an old man.”

“Ah,” Adam said, pointing at him, accusatory. “You’re one of those, aren’t you?”

“One of those?”

“You say you’re an old man, but really you’re one of the strongest people around, right?” Adam asked.

The old man coughed into his fist, exchanging a quick glance to the Chief. “You have quite the imagination.”

“You or Sir Merry, who is stronger?” Adam asked.

“Sir Merry?” the old man asked.

“The previous King’s Sword,” the Chief explained.

“King’s Sword. King’s Sword…” The old man closed his eyes to think deeply.

“He is a great warrior I would have trouble facing,” the Chief admitted.

“Oh ho? Really now? I didn’t expect the land to have such a prominent fellow. King’s Sword. Ah, right. That’s what they called the right hand man of the Blakvatr Kingdom, yes?”

The Chief nodded.

The old man let out a soft exhaled. “I haven’t followed the politics of the land in some time. I didn’t expect to hear there would be anyone to rival your kind.”

“You must be really old, then,” Adam said, beginning to deduce more about the old man. “Especially if you’re calling Entalia a young lady.”

“Hmph,” she replied.

“Young man, don’t you know that being too curious will get you killed?” The old man raised his head, looking down towards Adam.

Adam stared at him long and hard. He eyed the old man up and down, before giving the old man a look he had never experienced before. His face similar to that of Turot’s when he doubted something Adam had said.

“You’re looking down? On me? I haven’t felt that before!” The old man fell into laughter. “I knew it would be so fun here!”

“Who is stronger?” Adam asked. “You, or Baktu?”

“Baktu? He who lords over Death? Who can claim to be stronger than He?”

Adam smirked at him, the same way Turot had done to him when he knew the answer to something Adam didn’t. “The guy who killed me twice is at least as strong as Baktu.”

“Twice? The smell of Death doesn’t cling to you. It’s almost as if…” The old man cleared his throat. “I’m too old to be peeking in at the affairs of the youth.”

“So, you’re a long lived creature,” Adam deduced. “Not an Elf, because I think they behave differently. You’re handsome, but you don’t have pointed ears. A Dragon in disguise, maybe?”

Entalia wondered just how Adam had been so on the nose to guess something so easily. “Don’t mind him. The less you deal with him, the better.” She shot the old man a glare.

“Why is that?”

“You hate nobility, don’t you?”

“I’m not a fan, generally. Except you, you’re bearable.”

“I’m a Dragon, not a Bear.”

Adam coughed, trying to stop his laugh.

“That guy is a Noble among Nobles. Royalty amongst Royalty.”

“So he’s the King of Dragons?” Adam said, looking up at the old man again. ‘I guess he’s handsome enough?’

“Something like that.”

“So, what are you doing in the Iyr?” Adam asked. “If you’re, you know, an Emperor or whatever you are, you should be…” Adam looked to the Chief, wondering if he should press on further.

“I wanted to spend my last days in the Iyr,” he said. “A year or so.”

“You’re dying?” Adam asked, suddenly feeling awkward. “Now I feel bad for bullying you.”

The old man howled with laughter, trying to keep the tears from pouring. “An old man like me? Bullied by a boy not even one hundred years old? Who would have thought!”

“The name’s Adam, son of Fate, Nephew of the Rot family,” Adam said. “What’s your name?”

‘Son of Fate?’ the old man thought. “I am…” He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. “What should you call me? Solomon? No, no, that’s the little boy’s name from that time. Strom. Call me Strom.”

“Strom is a cool name, but is it your real name?” Adam asked.

Strom smiled, the same way the Iyrmen sometimes smiled when he shouldn’t know something.

“What did I say about the old man?” Entalia asked. “Be careful of him. He’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous, how?”

“He’s strong.”

“So are the Iyrmen, but they aren’t dangerous to me,” Adam said.

Entalia threw Adam a look, wondering if he really just said that.

“I think you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.”

Adam let out a soft breath. “I just think you want my attention. Have you been busy since you last left?”

The old man looked to Chief Iromin, before turning his attention back to Adam. ‘Is he going to ignore me now?’

Sonarot was staring at the old man, her eyes suspicious as she stared at him. Eventually she stepped forward to speak with him.

Jurot was staring at him with far more excitement. ‘I bet he is stronger than Sir Merry.’

“Busy enough with running a Kingdom, though I have advisers to deal with most of the matters,” she replied, still staring at Strom.

“You must have some difficult considering Aldland.”

“Only when the Iyrmen come, but we’ve created a defence against them, which the Iyrmen are polite with,” she said.

“What? What does that even mean?”

“We are masters of the sky, and the Iyr does not assist Aldland in changing that,” Entalia said. She remembered the wounds she had sustained back then from the old man. ‘Masters of the sky? Pfah!’

“The Iyrmen, I hear, are great at land warfare. Are they also good in the sky?” Adam asked, looking to the Chief.

“They are pretty good,” Entalia admitted. “Not as good as us, but they can be quite the thorn in our side. Luckily, their contract says nothing about bringing their Lesser Rukhs, so the Kingdom uses it’s Grpyhons against our Wyverns, but they’re still outclassed. We have an uneasy peace, for now.”

The words held quite a threat, one which the Iyr did not ignore.

“Glad to hear it,” Adam said. “When was the last time you guys warred, anyhow?”

“About a century ago, during the turmoil.”

“How did it go?”

“Aldland made quite a mess in our southern region,” she grumbled, recalling how much of a pain it was to deal with them. “We finally managed to repel them once I had secured my position, but Drakkenlan still feels its influence. They refuse to pay reparations for their timely war, the vultures.”

“Why not?” Adam said, glancing aside. ‘Don’t tell me about refusing to pay reparations.’

“You think they’ll pay reparations with the Iyr backing them?” Entalia asked.

“Oh, right. Though, don’t you have sky dominance? Surely you could use that?” Adam replied, before realising what he was talking about.

“There are plenty of other ways to fight an enemy without the sword,” she replied.

‘Oh,’ Adam thought, raising his brows. “Yeah, I suppose there are.” He smiled.

Entalia glanced around to the old man, before then looking back down to Adam. “Though, having better weapons is always good. Are you willing to be the Head Enchanter of Drakkenlan?”

Adam blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’ll be expected to make twelve weapons a year, and I’ll pay you handsomely. I’ll pay you a stipend, and a bonus for the quality of each weapon you provide. You’d get to have all the booze, food, and men and women you like.”

“I’m not into men,” he replied.

“You’re not?” Entalia asked.

Even Strom, who had been half listening from afar, was taken aback by this news.

“No.”

“Then I’ll provide double the women,” she said. “We have quite the beauties.”

“Even if they were all as beautiful as you, I’d refuse.”

“A thousand gold a month, plus at least a thousand gold for each basic weapon, and at least five thousand for greater enchanted weapons,” she said.

Adam raised his brows. “Nope. Drop it, Entalia. It doesn’t matter what you offer me, I will not accept.”

Entalia threw her gaze towards Lanarot, who was holding the handle of a spear, sucking against it, all the while her mother held it firmly in hand to make sure she couldn’t take it from her. “Your sister?”

“Yep.”

“Even for more than thirty thousand gold a year?”

“Mhmm.”

“Fifty thousand?”

“Entalia,” Adam said. “Even if you offered me a million gold a year, I won’t take it.”

“Not even for a million?” Entalia replied. The things she’d do for a million gold. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Then… can I still ask you to make enchanted weapons for me?” Entalia asked.

“After these two, I don’t know,” Adam admitted. “You’d have to ask one of the Great Elders, or the Chief.”

“Why?”

The Chief cleared his throat. “In case you become an enemy.”